An Idea
by Aquestra
Summary: After the passing of his family, Vegeta struggles with an taunting idea that his mind can not seem to let go of. Will the Prince win the struggle against himself, or will his will power finally falter?


**Disclaimer - I do not own DBZ, this is just for fun :)**

**If you liked this check out my on-going story "The Saiyan Ascension"**

**Happy Reading**

* * *

Vegeta sat leisurely on the cushioned couch, a thought seductively dancing in his mind. The idea had been slowly creeping its way back into the mind of the Prince since the departure of Kakarot, but had accelerated in it's gripping takeover with each passing of his family members. The Prince was finally ageing, but the signs were slight. He had the occasional grey, and a few sparses wrinkles, but he maintained his fighting physique. The tortures of his longevity for outweighed the benefits though as he watched each person he had made an attachment with grow old and wither away.

Bulma was first. Just shy of reaching her ninetieth birthday, old age had snatched her away from him. He mourned in his own way, no one saw him shed a single tear for his mate. Vegeta would never show that weakness, and instead he locked himself away in brutal, inhumane training sessions. Years passed where his children would not see their father for he ventured off to the deep corners of space to escape the pain her death brought upon him.

And that little idea crept forward.

Vegeta then lost his daughter, Bra. He had known that she clearly didn't inherit many of his saiyan abilities, but he had secretly hoped she inherited their longevity. This proved to be untrue as she passed away when she was just over one hundred. At the loss of his princess Vegeta shut himself out completely from any contact with the remaining Z-Warriors and their offspring. The inexplicable pain her death brought him made him even more cold and bitter than his already distant self. The slight softness that had found it's way into his eyes after all his time on earth had hardened once again.

And the little idea stepped forward.

Now sitting hear, the day after laying his hundred and thirty-four year old son to rest, Vegeta had no one. The Prince had not spoken to his son since his daughters passing, but he at least known the boy was alive, his legacy was alive. The death of his son brought him to the brink of insanity, his mind now dawning an eerie resemblance to the dark, hallowed space it was under the tyranny of Frieza.

And the little idea lunged forward.

* * *

_Fucking one hundred and sixty fucking eight. _Vegeta thought to himself as he stared blankly at the wall while he sat waiting for his food to arrive.

_How much fucking older could I possibly get? _He had trouble recalling since he had left Vegeta-sei so young.

Vegeta sat in the spot that had become his life entertaining the madness that shadowed his brain.

He smirked. _Old enough to have enough time._

His smirk widened into a wicked smile. _Time wouldn't even be an issue if I could get__to Shin Namekkusei._

Bloodlust coursed through Vegeta's veins. He imagined the feeling of the sweet release of watching the life fade from his victim's eyes, the adrenaline rush from wiping out an entire planet. He closed is eyes to make the memories of so long ago more vivid. Vegeta rested his head on the back of the couch and pictured the awful scenes that he had wreaked.

He smiled brilliantly exposing his razor sharp canines. With his tongue he traced the contour of his edged choppers all while contemplating how sweet it would be to taste blood once again. He inhaled deeply through his nose, reminiscing as best he could what it was like to smell the fear of his victims.

He sat there in a trance, analyzing every battle he raged starting from his very first one as a boy. The prince's insane smile grew wider each victory, and even wider with each kill.

That was until he reached the battle of earth.

His eyes shot open and his insane smile was snatched from his face.

"DAMN KAKAROT." He jumped to his feet in anger. "AND BLAST THIS ENTIRE FUCKING MUDBALL."

Vegeta tore across the room and in a fit of pure rage began ripping the room to shreds. He launched the television across the room. Before it even slammed into the fridge, Vegeta was ripping the couch to pieces with his hands. Once the couch was properly mangled, he blasted the marble countertop into millions of pieces with one single ki blast.

Within mere seconds the kitchen and the living room were obliterated into nothing. Vegeta needed to kill something. He needed to feel the power that the fear of others bestowed upon him.

He needed to be unleashed.

_No._ He stopped himself as he was headed to the door. His eyes lost some of their madness and sanity returned to the mind of the Prince.

He walked over routinely to the now-decimated couch and sat on the shredded frame.

_I need to be let into heaven. I can be with the brats again._ He paused and took a deep breath. _And that babbling woman._

Vegeta took slow breaths as he calmed himself down.

_But there is no guarantee... _A wicked smirk crossed Vegeta's face once again as the seductress-of-a-thought came galavanting into his mind again.

_No. I can't. I mustn't. _Vegeta protested against himself.

_Oh but you can. You must._The thought mockingly echoed back.

Vegeta outwardly growled at his own menacing mind. _No. I've given this up long ago._

_For them, and they are gone. You know you liked it..._

Vegeta shut his eyes in frustration. _No. I was forced... Frieza..._

With his eyes closed Vegeta could see the idea take shape in his mind. A younger version of himself approached with a familiarly evil grin.

_You liked it._

Vegeta stared at this illusion with in his mind, not able to retort the accusation. He had enjoyed it, very much so, but that was then and this was now.

_That time is done with. _Vegeta finally spat out at the younger vision of himself.

His insane idea chuckled and his mischievous smirk deepened. _The prince of all saiyans reduced to mere earthling living. How pathetic._

Rage filled the the saiyans body at the insult on himself.

The idea continued, approaching Vegeta. _They left you. You're so-called family._

_They died! _The anger continued to fill Vegeta's being at his unsung thoughts.

_But they're in heaven. _The idea smirked. _And it's no question where you'll end up... They left you._

The sane part of Vegeta's mind began to falter.

_No._

_HA. _The idea laughed and stopped a mere foot away from Vegeta's mental projection of himself. _You ARE pathetic. You think they cared?_

Vegeta was silent, anger filling him to the brim.

_Who would care about us? _The idea waved his young hand dismissively. _Why do you think Bulma was always at work? Why do you think Bra moved out at sixteen? Why do you think Trunks stopped his training?_

_No._

_Because Bulma didn't care. _

_NO._

_Bra couldn't stand You._

_NO!_

The rage that filled Vegeta erupted as he blasted into super-saiyan, jumping from the couch. The thought that taunted his returning to the corners of his mind.

The prince stood in the destroyed living room panting and covered in sweat from his inward argument. Just as he was about to power down a knock came from the door putting him on edge. He cautiously walked to the front door and swung it open aggressively.

As the door swung open, the idea seized it's chance.

_And Trunks HATED you._

The delivery boy never saw it coming. Vegeta instantaneously flashed into Super Saiyan Three and blasted the teenage into the next dimension.

Vegeta stared at the ground silently for a while. But then what started as a low growl grew into a joyous laugh. The evil prince that had been tamed was finally unleashed. His eyes shot open, and any trace of softness was gone, replaced by hollow, lifeless orbs.

Vegeta looked out the front door.

_This is going to be fun._

And with an evil smirk, one he hadn't reproduced since his very first visit to earth, he was off.


End file.
